


as it should and shall always be

by profdanglais



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, I hope, Idiots in Love, Mild Smut, Mutual Pining, Some humour, i wrote this in about three hours so it goes a bit fast, thank goodness for the outline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profdanglais/pseuds/profdanglais
Summary: Long-time best friends Emma and Killian have always had deeper feelings simmering beneath the surface of their friendship. When they each show up at a ball with dates who are not each other, they are finally forced to confront those feelings and take a risk on love.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 167





	as it should and shall always be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iverna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/gifts).



> For the lovely Svenja, for her birthday, since her idea of celebrating is giving US the gift of an epic new chapter of Given The Choice. Based on her own outline (https://winterbythesea.tumblr.com/post/189293370172/okay-hows-this-for-a-fake-dating-au-killian-and) -- I hope you like my take on it!

Emma tugged at the neckline of her dress wondering for at least the hundredth time since she’d arrived at the ball—half an hour ago—what the hell she’d been thinking to agree to this. She glanced over at August, who was staring into his drink like he expected to find the secrets of the universe concealed within its depths, and sighed. She was doing a favour for a friend, that’s why. Even if that ‘friend’ could be a bit annoying and pretentious at times and was always correcting her grammar and mansplaining her job to her, he _had_ helped her move to a new apartment that one time and—whoa.

Wait.

What?

What what what?

 _Damn, he cleans up good._

“Oh great, Jones is here?” grumbled August. “I guess that’s goodbye.”

“Wh—what?” Emma tore her gaze from the mouthwatering sight of Killian in an honest-to-goodness goddamn black tie tuxedo with an embroidered vest beneath it— _it’s called a waistcoat, Swan,_ he’d say with a smirk—because of course that’s what he’d wear, and frowned at August. “What are you talking about?”

“Just that you’ll want to go talk to him, I suppose, like you always do.”

“No, of course not, I’m here with you. And he’s here with— _Ariel?_ ”

 _Since when?_

But there he was, giving every appearance of the doting date, his hand on the small of Ariel’s back as they moved into the room, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and handing it to her with a flourish. Emma felt a sneer curl her lip. Well, wasn’t he just the gentleman?

 _I’m always a gentleman, love._ She could practically hear his voice speaking the words in her ear and that combined with him looking even more lickable than usual sent a shiver of lust across her skin.

Being insanely attracted to your best friend was not the easiest situation to be in, but Emma had, more or less, learned to live with it. Killian flirted with her, she parried him; the harder he flirted the more she clapped back, that was just their vibe and always had been, ever since she’d mistaken him for her skip five years ago and tackled him to the ground outside his brother’s pub.

“Oh,” she’d said, when she got a good look at his face and realised her mistake. “Sorry.”

“No worries, lass,” Killian had replied, “I’m delighted to be the one to break your fall, as you have clearly tumbled straight from heaven.”

Emma had stared at him for a moment then burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” she’d gasped, clutching her stomach. “What a line!”

And they’d been friends ever since.

And okay, maybe there was a small, just a teeny-tiny part of her that wished they could be more, that had been wondering lately what it might be like if he actually meant all the things he said. If the heat in his eyes when he looked at her was real, and not just part of his game. Maybe if he meant it, she might be able to take a chance on him. He’d be worth the risk.

 _If_ he meant it.

But he clearly didn’t, if he was here with Ariel. Emma scowled, forgetting how much she actually liked the perky redhead, thinking only how Ariel could always keep Killian in check, how she didn’t buy his bullshit any more than Emma herself did. But they’d only known Ariel for less than a year, since she moved in across the hall from Killian and… and maybe stuff had happened between them that Emma didn’t know about. Maybe they’d been seeing each other for a while and were only just going public. Killian always proclaimed his affinity for tough lasses, and Ariel was surely that.

 _But,_ thought a little voice in Emma’s head, _so am I_.

Killian had always said so.

So why Ariel and not her, when she’d known Killian longer and—

And had always rejected his advances. If they were advances?

What if Killian had always meant what he said, what if he wanted her and she had pushed him away one time too many?

What if he’d given up on her?

—

Killian had just swept Ariel into a dance when a flash of crimson caught his eye and he nearly tripped over his own feet.

 _Bloody hell,_ he thought. _She cleans up well._

Not that she was ever anything less than gorgeous. Even, or perhaps especially, when her hair was in a messy bun atop her head and her glasses perched on the end of her nose and her ratty old sweatshirt—which was in fact _his_ ratty old sweatshirt, as he had long since stopped trying to remind her—falling off one shoulder as she snorted with laughter over something he’d said. That sight never failed to take his breath away. But this sight, well, it was giving the other a fair run for its money.

Emma Swan in a floor-length crimson ball gown, her hair swept up to reveal her graceful neck with curling tendrils teasing her collarbones, right where he’d always wanted to nibble her—

He did stumble over his feet then, completely losing the steps of the dance as he stared at Emma and nearly crashing to the floor and dragging Ariel along with him.

“Hey, are you okay?” Ariel frowned at him. “I know you can be clumsy but it’s usually things knocking you down and not you actually forgetting how to walk.”

“We’re dancing, not walking, and aye, I’m fine. I just got a bit distracted.” He couldn’t help glancing back at Emma as he said it.

Ariel’s eyes followed his and she smirked. “Emma looks great tonight,” she remarked. “That colour really suits her.”

“Aye,” he replied gruffly.

“Who’s that she’s with?”

“August Booth.” Killian couldn’t quite keep the snarl from his voice. “An old friend of hers from high school. Bit of a prat.”

“Hmmm.” Ariel’s eyes widened and Killian spun her sharply so he could see what she was looking at. When he saw that August had put his arm around Emma’s shoulders the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

 _What the actual fuck?_

She couldn’t really be here with Booth? Obviously she was here with him, but as friends, surely? There wasn’t anything more between them, there couldn’t be. Emma had known August forever and she never dated. He knew she never dated because she had told him so, many times, and if she hadn’t repeated it so often he’d have bloody well asked her out himself.

He just—didn’t want to push her. Didn’t want to risk pushing her away. He was just on the edge, millimetres away from being hopelessly in love with her and only managed to keep from falling that last tiny bit by reminding himself how disastrous it would be to feel that way about her if she would never feel the same. The fact that she didn’t date _anyone_ , not just him, was a small but vital consolation.

And now it seemed that consolation was gone.

For August _bloody_ Booth. Of all people.

Killian ground his teeth as he whirled Ariel in a complicated spin—because he _could_ dance, damn it, and dance well—too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice his dance partner’s sudden distraction as she caught sight of a handsome dark-haired man across the room.

—

Emma pasted a smile on her face, trying not to squirm as August’s arm held her in a tight grip. His ex-girlfriend—Julia? Jenna? Emma couldn’t quite recall the woman’s name—was watching them through narrowed eyes and she had promised to help August out by posing as his date. To make the ex jealous. So she didn’t ‘win the breakup.’

Which was dumb as fuck, Emma had pointed out.

But still, a promise was a promise and the sight of Killian dancing with Ariel almost made her understand where August was coming from. It wasn’t that she wanted Killian to be jealous, but she definitely didn’t want him to think she cared about who he danced with.

Even though, she could now admit to herself, she did care. She cared a lot. And she wished she could go back in time and tell him so, before it got to be too late. Before he found someone else.

She watched from the corner of her eye as Killian spun Ariel in a graceful twirl. They made a good-looking couple, she thought, grinding her teeth. Killian’s dark handsomeness and the bright fall of Ariel’s hair, and—

“Don’t you think so, Emma?”

“What?”

She turned to see August giving her a glare somehow disguised as a fond smile. “Oh, um, yes, absolutely. Completely agree.”

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re so happy,” said Julia/Jenna through clenched teeth of her own. “Have a wonderful night.”

“You too,” said August to her retreating back.

As soon as J-whatever was out of earshot, Emma pulled out of August’s grip. “Just so you know, buddy, that’s as far as this is going,” she hissed. “It’s already pathetic enough that we’re even here, I’m not going to kiss you or anything.”

“Of course not.” August looked faintly repulsed. “You’re like my sister.”

“Well. Exactly. Just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal.”

“Good.”

—

Killian managed to keep his eye on Emma while remaining on his feet and even moving them quite gracefully if he said so himself, but Ariel was not so smooth.

“Whoa, lass!” he cried as she stumbled, catching her and doing his best to make it look like a dip rather than a rescue. He spun her back into the dance and frowned when he saw her flaming cheeks.

“No need to be embarrassed, it happens to the best of us,” he quipped.

“It’s not that, it’s—” she broke off, her blush deepening.

“It’s what?”

“Nothing.”

But her eyes, not unlike his own, betrayed her, and he followed her gaze to a man standing on the other side of the room. A handsome one; if not quite as handsome as Killian himself, then certainly a healthy runner-up.

“Do you know that bloke?”

“No.” Ariel, to her credit, didn’t pretend not to know who he was talking about.

“Do you want to?”

“What? Killian, no—”

But Killian ignored her protests and danced them over to the man, spinning them both to a stop directly in front of him.

“Killian!” Ariel hissed, tugging at his sleeve and making frantic hushing motions with her other hand, but he ignored her.

“Good evening,” he said, giving the man a friendly nod. “My name is Killian Jones, and this is my friend Ariel.”

“Uh, hello,” the man replied. “I’m Eric.” His words were directed at Killian but his eyes were all for Ariel.

 _Excellent,_ Killian thought.

“Lovely to meet you, mate, would you care to dance?”

“Um—” Eric’s eyes flew to him, a bit panicked.

“With Ariel, I mean,” Killian clarified, as Ariel herself surreptitiously dug her elbow into his ribs.

“Ah,” breathed Eric on a wave of relief. “Um, I’d love to.”

“You would?” squeaked Ariel. “I mean, uh—”

Eric gave her a small bow and held out his hand. “If you would do me the honour.”

Killian grinned. He approved of this Eric. The man had style.

Blushing even more furiously, Ariel took his hand and he spun her off onto the dance floor. Killian’s grin widened as he watched them go.

And then he remembered. Emma. In that dress. With August. As his date.

The grin faded, replaced with a scowl. He needed a drink.

—

Emma and August returned to their small table, where August resumed glaring into his drink and Emma resumed watching Killian and Ariel. Which… where had they gone?

She scanned the ballroom until she caught a flash of auburn curls. There was Ariel dancing with a tall, dark-haired man… who was _not_ Killian. Emma frowned, resuming her search. He didn’t appear to be dancing with anyone else, so where was he?

Ah, there he was. At the bar. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, and yet… his shoulders were slumped and he was glaring at his drink even more wrathfully than August.

A drink sounded good, thought Emma. She could definitely use a break from August and his stupid relationship drama.

—

“So,” said a voice at his elbow, and Killian turned to see Emma sliding onto the stool next to him. “You and Ariel. That’s new.”

She was using that voice, the one she used when she was trying not to be upset about something that deeply upset her. He looked at her closely. She was smiling with her mouth but her eyes looked… hurt?

Surely not because he was here with Ariel?

Killian supposed he should probably play it cool considering _she_ was here with August, but the idea of Emma hurting because of something he did, even unintentionally, was more than he could bear.

“No, love, I’m not—I mean, yes I am but it’s not—we’re just friends.”

Her face softened, just a fraction, but enough to ease the ache in his chest. “Really?”

“Aye. Do you really think I’d be sitting here while she slow-dances with another man if this were a date?”

“Oh. Right.” Of course he wouldn’t.

“Ariel’s family’s been trying to set her up a lot recently, and they take this ball very seriously, so she asked me to come with her. To get them off her back,” he explained.

“Oh. That’s dumb as hell.”

“Aye, that’s what I said, but she asked it as a favour and I didn’t like to refuse.”

“No, of course not.”

“Aye.” Killian returned his attention to his drink, finishing it in one gulp and signalling the barman for another. Emma must have come over here for a reason and if that reason was to tell him about her new relationship with August he was going to need to be a hell of a lot more drunk to withstand it.

—

Emma’s heart was racing and she felt light enough to fly. Killian wasn’t dating Ariel, which meant it might not be too late. For her. For _them._

“I bet I can top it, though,” she said.

“Top what?” The bartender slid a fresh drink in front of Killian and he gripped it like a lifeline.

“Your dumb fake-date story. I’ve got a better one.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. I’m here with August because he found out his ex was gonna be here and didn’t want her to ‘win the breakup.’” She rolled her eyes and made air quotes with her fingers, then watched emotions parade across Killian’s face like a marching band. Amusement, confusion, comprehension, shock, realisation, and then finally that wide, joyous grin that always made her heart flutter.

“What a wanker,” he said.

“Dumbass is the word I used, but yeah.”

—

And just like that, Killian’s world righted itself. Emma wasn’t on a date with August because _of course_ she wasn’t. He was a daft moron for ever thinking she would be interested in that prat. And if she wasn’t dating August, then that meant…

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Swan, but I’m glad you’re not here on a date.” His relief was so powerful he couldn’t hold the words in and her response made him fear his grin might split his face.

“Yeah? Me too.”

She was grinning too and he got lost in it, and in her eyes which held a relief that echoed his own and also _hope._

A hand slammed onto the bar, startling them, and they turned to see the barman watching them with a slight sneer. “So are you two just gonna eye-fuck all night or do you want a drink?” he asked, in an accent that screamed _north of England_. His name tag read ‘HELLO MY NAME IS _will_ AND I AM PLEASED TO HELP YOU.’ Killian appreciated the irony.

“Actually, _Will_ , I don’t want a drink,” said Emma. “I want a dance.” She held out her hand to Killian.

“I thought you didn’t dance?”

“Oh,” Emma’s smile wobbled. “Right, I don’t, and I’ll probably step on your feet, so—”

“No,” Killian grabbed her hand. “I’ll take my chances.”

Her smile bloomed bright again and he thought that crushed toes were a small price to pay to put that look on her face.

—

She totally stepped on his feet.

“Sorry!” she cried for the third time in as many minutes, and Killian definitely winced this time though he’d managed to smile through the first two.“I’m so sorry!”

“It’s nothing, lo—” Killian began, and then she stepped on his foot again and all he could do was laugh.

“Sorry! Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

Killian gave a dramatic grimace. “I fear this wound may be mortal, Swan,” he groaned. “You’ll have to kiss it better.”

Her expression immediately turned sardonic. “I am NOT kissing your feet.”

“No? Not even to save my life?”

“No.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me say that the wound is _mortal_ , Swan?”

“I did, but there are limits, pal.”

“Oh, well, I suppose I’d settle for a kiss on… _other_ places. Tell you what—” he twirled her around and into a dip, “—you pick.”

He whisked her back up again and Emma felt breathless and light as air, despite her awkward feet. “How’s that gonna make your foot better?” she asked.

Killian was looking at her intently, like she was the only person in the room, smiling at her like she was all he ever wanted to smile at. He’d looked at her like that before, she realised, but she hadn’t believed that what she saw in his eyes was real.

She believed it now.

“I promise you, Emma, if you were to kiss me I would immediately forget any and all pain,” he said softly.

Typical Killian, she thought. Ridiculous. Drama queen. Hotter than hell and _hers._ She knew now that he always had been.

“Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, and laughed through the pain as he stumbled and stepped on her toes.

“Where do you suggest?”

“My place? Ice cream and Netflix?”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he smiled. “Love to.”

Emma took his hand and dragged him to the door. Ariel and August could fend for themselves, she thought.

—

The door had barely closed behind them when she was on him. Hands fisted in his shirtfront, dragging him to her lips, kissing him like she meant to claim him.

Which, to be fair, she did.

He froze and she could almost taste his surprise, then his arms came around her and he spun them so that she was the one plastered against the door, urging her lips apart and groaning at the hot slide of her tongue over his. She tugged at his tie and ripped his shirt open as he licked down her neck and nipped at her collarbone. She yelped then sighed as his tongue soothed the pain.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met,” he growled.

“What—ah, _fuck_ —what else have you wanted to do?”

“I can show you.” He pulled back to look into her eyes. “If you want me to. If you’re sure, love.”

She pulled him back down for another kiss, one that ended with her pressed against the door, skirt rucked up and legs locked around his waist. “I’m sure,” she gasped. “I’m sure. Fuck, Killian, _please_.”

He looked down at her flushed skin and glazed eyes, the pleasure on her face that _he_ had put there, and felt himself tumble over that razor edge and into a love from which he knew he would never escape. But it didn’t matter anymore, he was happy to fall because he knew Emma was right behind him.

“As you wish, Swan,” he said. 


End file.
